


Broken

by aventurine_geode



Category: Powers (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aventurine_geode/pseuds/aventurine_geode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of a bad day, Johnny finds refuge in an unexpected place. Set in x_virtueofvice_x's Rust&Stardust AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [virtueofvice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtueofvice/gifts).



Autumn time found them in the forests of Manitoba on a whim: Calista, born and bred in the City of Angels, had never really seen the leaves change. A quiet cabin along a peaceful stretch of the Nelson river served as a temporary home, far from the reproachful eyes of humanity at large.

Of course, distance was no great hurdle for Royalle. He had "popped" out that morning to run an errand, or so he said; Calista did not bother to ask for clarification. As time marched on, she felt the distance between herself and her previous compulsion to know Johnny's whereabouts grow. What once was a raging storm in that far recess of her heart now rumbled faintly, a deep throb of anxiety well muffled by layer upon layer of other considerations.

Opening the door to the small refrigerator in the kitchen, Calista selected the half-finished glass bottle of chilled coffee drink she had begun earlier in the day, uncapping it as she stepped out onto the broad redwood deck.

All around her were the vibrant hues of the fall. The rich golds, the sunstreaked greens, the sanguine reds rolled before her like an intricate tapestry, though she would never have made that comparison on her own. Calista did not think in prose. Curling her long, bare toes against the sandy planks of bare wood beneath them, the young woman shook back her wavey bands of blond hair, turned her face to the sky and inhaled deeply, allowing herself to become immersed in the sensation of the breeze stirring her hair and clothing and the scent of slowly decaying earth.

Her moment of rapture was abruptly broken by the sound of a slamming door. Unable to wrest the memory of similar scenes from her childhood from her mind, Calista jumped. The drink slipped from her fingers, shattering into several pieces and many splinters on the hardwood. Instead of screaming, she bit her lip, the coppery taste of blood flooding her tongue.

"FUCK! Ow-- fuck!" It took only one ill-conceived step onto the broken glass to prompt the blonde to skim the few feet to the wide glass doors, her feet touching the ground once more only when they closed silently behind her.

Royalle stormed the kitchen, shuffling through the handcrafted wooden cabinets with the vehemence of one who has misplaced something of incredible importance. With each apparent failure to locate the item he shut that cupboard door with more athleticism than the last, until she feared one may be ripped from its hinges. At last the scotch was unearthed, a crystal tumbler following swiftly in its wake. Royalle shakily poured himself a shot and downed it in the space of time it took Calista to take a breath; another quickly replaced it in the glass. 

Her heart pounded in her ears. She had seen him upset before; that was nothing entirely new. The aggression, however, was somewhat unprecedented. Through the haze of her discomfort, Calista wondered just how much of himself Royalle repressed when he knew she observed him. Swallowing softly, she crept across the floor, her footsteps feather-light.

Johnny took a deep, ragged breath, then lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, leaving it unflatteringly tousled. He waved that hand absently, as though wordlessly conceding that the disheveling of his usually well-kept appearance, for once, did not merit his consideration. His shoulders sagged notably as he placed the tumbler on the butcher block, gripping the edge of it with both hands and leaning the better part of his weight thereupon.

At that moment slender arms slipped beneath his own, enveloping him. He stiffened reflexively, his spine suddenly rigid. In the next instant he felt the warm pressure of a small body against his back, a soft cheek pressing his shoulderblade with an artless delicacy that, as realization dawned, burned through his jacket and the cloth of his shirt like an iron brand.

"Sshh." The soft sound crept over his shoulder into ringing ears, Royalle realizing too late that he had emitted a tiny gasp. 

"It's okay. You're okay," Calista continued _sotto voce_ , running a gentle finger down the front of his shirt. "Whatever happened, we can fix it." Deathly silence in the great room as the sounds of nature seemed to recede from them, drowning out any sound for Johnny except the pulse of his own blood in his ears and her voice vibrating through his ribcage.

"I'm here."


End file.
